Filthy Rich Read online

  I glanced at Samantha, who I knew could totally hear what Noah was saying in the quiet of the car. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. On Monday.”

  “So that’s a yes, then.”

  “We can meet,” I allowed.

  “You are so fucking uptight,” Noah said. “You always have been. Do I have to convince you to come drink?”

  “It isn’t me you need to convince,” I said, wincing to myself because Samantha had doubtlessly heard the uptight comment. “It’s Dane. He’s the recluse. He’s been working on something big and he doesn’t want to leave it. He won’t want to go.”

  “Dane will fucking go,” Noah said. “I’m calling him next.” He hung up.

  I put my phone down and looked at Samantha. The car had pulled up to the hotel, and the driver was getting out to open her door. She smiled at me, amusement in her blue eyes.

  “You don’t have any brothers, do you?” I asked her.

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re about to see what it’s like. My partners aren’t my blood brothers, but they may as well be. Would you like to come for a drink?”

  We checked in, and as I was cleaning up in my room, my phone rang. It was my sister, Ava.

  “You went to Chicago without me?” she said. I’d texted her this morning, telling her I was going and that I’d say hi to our mother for her. With anyone else, that would be a simple message. With Ava and me, it was a sarcastic joke.

  “Be honest,” I said to her. “Would you have come?”

  She huffed a breath. Ava lived in Brooklyn and was a fashion blogger and stylist. She may have been born in Chicago, but New York was in her blood and she had no desire to go back. “I would have thought about it.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s for work, anyway. It isn’t a social trip.”

  “Are you really going to see Mom?”

  “I’m sort of obligated, aren’t I? I should at least check on how she’s doing.”

  Ava was quiet for a minute. She was four years younger than me, and the scars from our childhood ran deep. Making a better life for Ava was part of the reason I’d run away from home; when my partners and I had our apartment, she had always been welcome to stay, and she’d bunked with us often instead of going home. “I tried calling her a few weeks ago,” she said. “She told the nurse she didn’t want to talk to me because she doesn’t have a daughter anymore.”

  I shook my head, even though Ava couldn’t see me. “She doesn’t mean it. You know that.”

  “I know it’s the illness. And yet, deep down, she kind of does mean it. Because the illness makes her more honest than she used to be.”

  “That’s how she is. It’s how she’s always going to be.”

  “I know. I’m in therapy because of her. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my mother may be mentally ill, but she’s also a bitch.”

  “Is that the word your therapist tells you to use?”

  “No, I think the term is emotionally unavailable.”

  “That sounds accurate.”

  “It also means bitch.”

  I laughed. It was a very, very dark joke, the kind that only Ava and I would get. The kind of joke you would only understand if you’d been raised—and I used that word loosely—by Laura Winters.

  Ava was one of the few people on the planet who could make me laugh. She was blonde, at least for now, and she was outgoing—the complete opposite of me. Underneath the frothy exterior she was a focused career woman who had made a fashion blog and a flair for style into a very profitable business, but she didn’t like to admit that part. She liked to tease me that my all-consuming love of money was beneath her artistic sensibilities. “Well, I’ll drop in and make sure our mother is still alive, at least,” I said. “I’ll be sure to report back.”

  “Better you than me,” Ava said. “What’s the business in Chicago, anyway? Did Dane’s coding finger break?”

  Ava knew my friends from those years when she’d stayed at our apartment. Hanging out with four smelly, uncouth teenage boys, with their mountains of mess, was better for Ava than being with our mother. It was fine with us. Ava was never one of the boys—she wasn’t a tomboy, and she’d been a fashionista even then—but she was fun, hard to offend, and tough enough to take our jokes. We were all protective of her, and she put up with us most of the time.

  It was Dane, though, that she liked to tease. Dane was our computer brain, our coder, and as a teenager he’d looked…well, like a nerd. Glasses and ill-fitting clothes made up his whole look. He was also surly and had limited social skills. He was Ava’s favorite butt of jokes, even now.

  “Dane is fine,” I said.

  “Maybe he left his computer and saw sunlight for once. I could see how that could be traumatic.” She was on a roll now. “Or a real live girl talked to him? God, he might have passed out.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t seen Dane in a long time, you know.”

  “I know. It’s been years, and his picture isn’t plastered all over the New York gossip sites, unlike my brother. Are you saying that Dane actually bought a new shirt sometime over the last few years? One that doesn’t smell? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “You can make all the jokes you want, but he can’t actually hear you. You know that, right?”

  “True, but it’s fun making them anyway. Are all of the boys there?”

  “We are. We’re about to meet for drinks.”

  “Oh, that actually sounds fun. Though the testosterone might be too much for me.”

  “You’re not used to it anymore. It won’t be all testosterone. My executive assistant is coming, too.”

  “Which one is this? The new one? Samantha, right?” I didn’t talk to many people, but it was impossible to keep anything from Ava. “I hope she’s ready.”

  “She’ll be fine.” But as I said my goodbyes to Ava, I thought it over. The Tower VC boys were a lot to handle sometimes. Well, I’d told them to behave. I’d just have to hope they listened to me.

  Thirteen

  Samantha

  * * *

  We met at a bar called Caponi’s, a few blocks from the hotel. The Chicago spring air was brisk, and it was windy—appropriate, I supposed, in the Windy City, though no native Chicagoans ever called it that. It wasn’t exactly warm yet, but people were out in their spring outfits, happy that the long, icy winter was over. There was nothing as optimistic as Chicagoans in early spring.

  I wore a navy blue sweater dress and knee-high boots, my hair in a ponytail. Aidan met me in the lobby—he had changed out of the sweater and replaced it with a black button-down shirt, open at the throat, and a casual black jacket. My sister Emma was right—my boss was an absolute snack. Damn it. And this felt disturbingly casual, so as soon as we started walking I talked business.

  “There are plenty of emails piling up,” I said. “If you want me to deal with them back in my room while you meet your partners, I’d understand.”

  “Are you chickening out?” Aidan asked, sounding amused.

  “Not at all. I’m just trying to figure out the situation. You hired me to work for you, but apparently we’re going drinking in the middle of a Monday afternoon.”

  “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

  “I know.” I hadn’t decided about that yet. I was nervous enough to crave a glass of wine, and at the same time alcohol seemed like a bad idea. These were very important men, and I needed to make a good impression. “I’ll work later tonight to catch up.”

  “You don’t have to do that, either.” Aidan paused, and something seemed to occur to him. “Do you actually think I’d invite you out during a weekday, then blame you for not being up-to-date on your workload?”

  I laughed. “I can tell you’ve never worked for any other CEOs.”

  “That’s an asshole move.”

  “And your point is?”

  “Jesus.” He was thoughtful for half a block. I noticed a couple of women staring at hi
m, but he seemed oblivious. “Can I ask you something?” he said as we approached the door to the bar.

  “Sure,” I said, though I wasn’t.

  “Do you like working for me?”

  It was such an unexpected question that I couldn’t think of an answer for a second. “Yes,” I said, though I didn’t say the rest of it—that this was the best assignment I’d ever had, that I wanted to please him, that I wanted to make this work. “Yes, I do.”

  He stopped outside the door and turned to look at me. “So you’d like to continue working for me,” he said. “Long term.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I would.”

  “Then this—” he gestured to the door of the bar, where his partners were inside “—is important. My partners need to know you, and they need to trust you as much as I do. They need to know that any aspect of the business can be turned over to you without question. And the first part of that is for them to meet you, preferably casually, so they can see who you really are. So if it helps your psyche, then look at what we’re about to do as work.”

  He was right. We might be having a drink, but these men would have the power to promote me—or fire me. I might be Aidan’s assistant, but my job meant that the other partners had to trust me, too. A question occurred to me. “Why don’t the others have assistants? Why only you?”

  “Because Dane is too grumpy, Alex is too secretive, and Noah thinks he already has everything figured out.”

  I really needed to meet these guys. I crossed my arms and looked at Aidan. “Okay, boss, you’ve convinced me. I’ll have a drink.”

  He smiled. My knees went wobbly, but I didn’t think he noticed, because I covered it up pretty well. “Thank you, Samantha,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  The first person to approach Aidan when we walked in was a tall, broad-shouldered, gorgeous man with short, dark blond hair. He was wearing jeans, a white button-down shirt and a dark brown leather jacket, and he flung one arm over Aidan’s shoulders as if they’d already been drinking for hours. “The Man in Black has arrived,” he said. “Now we can really have fun.”

  I’d never seen anyone touch Aidan, let alone grab him like that, but Aidan didn’t seem to mind. “Samantha,” he said to me, “this is Noah Pearson.”

  “I know Samantha,” Noah said before I could answer. He dropped his arm from Aidan and held out his hand for me to shake. “She’s the only one who answers my emails.”

  I felt myself smiling. I could see this man, as Aidan described, dating gorgeous actresses nonstop. Obviously he was making the most of his life in L.A. But he was charming, and he certainly was handsome. His handshake was warm and firm, too. “It’s nice to meet you in person,” I said.

  “Come in and have a drink,” Noah said. “The others are here.”

  He led us back to a table. The bar was narrow but deep, reasonably busy even for a Monday afternoon, and it smelled of crisp beer and something salty. I suddenly wondered if they had good food. I’d had nothing but airplane snacks all day.

  At a table at the back were two more men. One was big and rough-looking, bearded, corded with muscle, his brown hair tied messily at the back of his head in a man-bun. The other was leaner but deadlier-looking, with dark hair and a black T-shirt from which tattoos snaked out of the sleeves and down his arms. Neither of them looked like they belonged on the board of a venture capital firm. One of them must be Dane Scotland, the genius computer programmer who had built the original software that launched Tower VC. Neither of these men looked like a computer geek either. Then again, Aidan had described Dane as “rough around the edges.”

  “Gentlemen,” Aidan said as the two men looked at us. “This is Samantha Riley, my executive assistant. Samantha, this is Alex Blake.” He gestured to the dark, tattooed man. Then he gestured to the big guy with the man bun. “And this is Dane Scotland programming wiz.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Alex said as I pulled out a chair and sat. He had a shadow of dark beard on his jaw. With his tattoos, black tee, and dark hair, he looked a little dangerous, but his eyes were kind. The hand that shook mine was adorned with silver rings. “Dane,” Alex said. “Say something nice to the lady.”

  “I can be nice,” Dane said to Alex. He looked at me. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Dane’s manners need work, but don’t worry,” Alex said. “That means he likes you.”

  “My manners are fine,” Dane said. He looked at Aidan. “Where’s Ava?”

  Aidan had pulled out the chair next to me and sat in it. I felt the heat of him, his vitality, his familiarity. “Ava is my sister,” he said to me. “She lives in Brooklyn.” He turned back to Dane. “She didn’t come. This is a business trip. Or at least that’s what Noah said.”

  “It’s absolutely a business trip,” Noah agreed from his place at the end of the table. “I have an investment you’ll all be interested in. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow. Tonight, we catch up.”

  “I haven’t met your sister,” I said to Aidan.

  His features went a little soft at the mention of her, which told me she was a favorite person of his. It made me curious about her immediately. “You might meet her,” he said. “She comes into the city often enough, but she hates coming to the office. Be warned, though, that if she meets you, she’ll dress you. It’s nothing personal, or a commentary on how you dress. She’s a fashion blogger and stylist. It’s just what she does.”

  “Does she dress you?” I asked.

  That made Aidan smile. “I’ve learned plenty of tricks from her, but I dress myself.”

  “Can’t you tell?” Alex said, grinning at me.

  “The Man in Black,” Noah said. “Haven’t you ever wondered why black is all he wears?”

  I looked around the table, then back at Aidan. He shrugged good-naturedly. “Yes, I wonder,” I said. “Everyone wonders.”

  “It’s so that he always knows what color to buy,” Alex said. “That way, he doesn’t have to coordinate.”

  I turned to Aidan, shocked. “Is that true? That’s the reason?”

  Aidan scratched his chin. “I hate clothes shopping,” he admitted. “If everything I buy is black, it’s just easier.”

  All of the gossip and the speculation. Aidan’s reputation as a remote, slightly sinister legend. The nickname of the Man in Black. Not because Aidan was a villain, but because he was too lazy to coordinate his wardrobe. “I’m seeing you in a whole new light,” I said.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “I do own other clothes. You’ve just never seen me wear them. Now, how about a round of drinks for the table?”

  Fourteen

  Aidan

  * * *

  “I knew you’d pull that shit,” I said to Noah later as we stood at the bar, getting drinks. Back at the table, Samantha was eating nachos and listening to Alex tell a story while Dane silently sipped his beer. She seemed to be relaxed and having fun.

  “Pull what?” Noah said innocently.

  “Telling her my secrets.”

  “Well, I happen to know you’re shit at color coordination. It won’t do to have her thinking you’re perfect. Which she probably does.”

  “No,” I said, thinking of the shitshow last week. “She doesn’t think I’m perfect.”

  He picked up his beer. “She’s very pretty, by the way. Beautiful, actually.”

  “I’m sorry?” I cupped a hand to my ear. “Can you repeat that? You said you’d like me to rip your balls off and play hockey with them?”

  “Relax. I’m not going to make a move on her. She’s not my type.”

  “Too classy?”

  “Too smart. Too serious.” He shook his head. “The kind of woman who actually wants you to stick around. No, thanks.”

  I could criticize Noah’s sex life, but then again, at least he knew the real names of the women he slept with. At least he was having sex at all, unlike me, who had suddenly lost the ability—or the desire—to pick up an available and willing woman in a bar.
/>   I glanced at Samantha. Was that the kind of woman she was? The kind who wanted a man to stick around? She was so polished, so careful, that it was hard to tell, but I had the feeling there was something else beneath the surface. Something a little rough and very, very sexy. If only I could figure out exactly what it was.

  No. I wasn’t going to do that. Right. Out of the question.

  “She’s a very valuable employee of mine,” I told Noah sanctimoniously. “I’d rather not talk about her sexual proclivities, thanks.”

  He swigged his beer. “God, you’re as uptight as ever. I’ve seen you so drunk you puked, you know.”

  “I was seventeen.”

  “What does it get you, though? Living like there’s a stick up your ass?”

  Noah knew nothing about the women I picked up, the things we did together. The less he knew, the better. “I don’t have a stick up my ass. As for my reputation, you should take a look at the Tower balance sheets sometime. My reputation as the ice-cold Man in Black scares everyone and gives me the advantage in business deals. It makes us a lot of money.”

  Noah shook his head. “Maybe, but I couldn’t do it. Be someone else all the time. Play a role.”

  No, that wasn’t Noah’s style. He was who he was, flaws and all. “Then it’s good you’re manning the west coast office and not New York,” I said. “Leave New York to me.”

  “Gladly,” Noah said. He picked up his beer. “I’m going back to rescue Samantha from the awkwardness of sitting alone with Dane.”

  I glanced at the table. I couldn’t see Alex, and Samantha and Dane were sitting together. Dane scratched his head, then said something brief. Samantha smiled and said something polite back.

  Jesus, Dane really needed to figure out how to be in a social situation. He didn’t look like a geek anymore—laser eye surgery, a gym regimen, and lack of a haircut had done that job—but deep down he still was the computer nerd who coded for fun. No wonder he never got laid.